In Another Life
by Hatse
Summary: Solona Amell and Anders are best friends-with benefits. That...benefit them often. But she is secretly in love with Cullen, the shy, reserved templar, who just happens to be the not-so-unwilling witness to one of their...ahem...tender moments. That becomes the catalyst for a dangerous affair-with unforeseen outcomes. Cullen/Solona Amell, Anders/Solona, Cullen/Solona/Anders
1. The Rascally Duo

**The Rascally Duo**

All that could be heard in the huge dusty library of Kinhold Tower was the slight rustling of old, brittle parchment and the screeching sound of quills as they scribbled across paper. Solona Amell raised her head and yawned, then moved her neck from side to side until she heard a satisfactory crack.

Maker, she was so bored. She sighed heavily. _So_ bored.

Predictably, the immediate response was a strict shushing sound form the stern-faced Enchanter at the head of the table, who was responsible for watching over their study group.

The brunette mage secretly rolled her eyes, then tried to focus once more. It was hopeless. The letters jumped in front of her eyes, as if mocking her: look, we can jump, but you have to stay still on that hard chair, and not move, or dance, or run.

A slip of parchment floated down to her foot. She pretended to drop her quill, then bent to retrieve it and quickly stuffed it between the yellowish pages of her book. Sneaking a look to the Enchanter to make sure his attention wasn't on her, she carefully unfolded and read it.

"Tonight," it said. "Same place, same time, new tricks!"

She locked eyes with the mischievous blond apprentice across the table from her. A slight nod, her blue eyes twinkling, and Anders had to suppress his smile. She raised an eyebrow just barely in a secret question she was sure he would understand, and his lips pursed in an expression she knew spelt mischief. One corner of his mouth went up in a shadow of a smug little smile, the same one that Anders always had when he mastered some new spell, way before his fellow apprentices, or managed to confound his teachers with new spells and abilities.

Solona's mouth curled in an almost identical smile. Well. Anders had a new trick, huh? She had one too. After all, they were both prodigies, the most talented, promising apprentices the Tower had seen since Irving had been dragged through these doors as a young boy.

And that was ages ago.

Anders wiggled his eyebrows at her suggestively, and she choked back a giggle that nearly escaped her. A strict look from Enchanter Stuffypants, as Anders was known to call him, and they both returned to their books, Anders with a bored expression and she with a small smile plying around her bowlike, pouty mouth.

Anders and she had been brought to the Circle just days apart from each other- they had been the same age, both much older than when children usually show magic. Two adolescents all alone in an unfamiliar, threatening environment, with the recent trauma of being ripped from their families still fresh in their eyes. It had been no surprise they'd gravitated towards each other from the start. They had both been precocious, talented beyond their years, frighteningly intelligent with a mischievous, rebellious streak and a playful nature. The naughty little imp in her had found its perfect match in the one in him- they had become fast friends, partners in pranks, the Tower's 'Rascally Duo'. The cry of 'you little monsters' was as common as their names. In fact, she was sure some people knew them by that title alone.

She snuck a look his way and sighed. They weren't so little any more. Back then, they had both been lanky, skinny kids, just on the brink of adolescence, all legs and no grace. But Anders had grown into a mighty fine specimen of a young man since then and she had long ago grown into a curvy, graceful young woman. She could still remember how curious Anders had been when her curves had started filling out, and how she had teased him about the pathetic growth of downy soft fuzz he had tried to cultivate into a beard- and failed.

They had explored their budding sexualities together, feeling at first as if what they were doing was very close to incest- they had been growing up as brother and sister, after all. It hadn't started like that- in a Tower where adult Enchanters looked at you sternly for asking questions they thought inappropriate, every change in their own bodies had brought fear and panic- she could still remember when she had gotten her first blood and she had run to Anders, thinking she was dying, and how he had blanched in fear. Sometimes, she thought Anders had started training as healer because he had so many questions about the way their bodies were changing- not that he wasn't immensely talented at healing anyway. She could still remember, a smile coming to her mouth with the memory, when Anders had avoided her for days, ashamed to admit that he'd had an...accident, as he had put it, in his sleep. Relentless prompting had resulted, until a red-faced, mortified Anders had admitted to his first wet dream.

The nostalgic smile on her face widened a bit as she forgot about her book and just stared into space, remembering. Explorations that had started off from curiosity had soon evolved into touches and kisses and then heavy petting, as they had learned what it meant to be male and female together, until one night, when they had both been about sixteen years old, they had taken each other's virginity.

Amazingly, though, their friendship had not only survived, it had flourished. Even more unbelievable than that was the fact that they had never fallen in love with each other, they hadn't felt the slightest inkling of romantic feelings towards each other.

They were just friends- with benefits.

They'd both taken on other lovers too, hurried, secretive couplings in hidden nooks of the Tower. They were both curious, sensual creatures, and life in the Tower was stressful- no one could blame the apprentices for wanting to blow off some steam. In fact, she suspected the templars knew of these secret liaisons, and turned a blind eye to them. The Enchanters certainly did, because they had been distributing contraceptive potions to all the girls in the Tower since puberty. Anders and she had both played around, experimented with their sexuality- she could still remember Anders telling her all about his first experience with a man (Karl, she thought was his name) and she had shared all of her own experimentations with him, often laughing and blushing together.

In a different place, in a different life, they could have fallen in love with each other. But not here, not in the Tower, where having something you couldn't bear to lose was a weapon to be used against you. Because, just like all other places, just like in every other lifestyle, it hadn't all been rainbows and roses. Life in the Tower wasn't tough, but it wasn't easy either. Just like in every other place, there were pitfalls that you had to be aware of, and a monster or two hidden under beds and in dark corners. There were templars one needed to give a wide berth; there were others that they knew would tolerate their antics with an indulgent smile. There were mages that were just as bad- if not worse- than the worst templars, mages with cold, calculating eyes, that gave Solona the cold willies as she went by and felt their eyes trailing after her.

There were rumours in every generation of rapes- it wasn't just the templars that were always guilty, that was the scariest part. There were rumours of secret, forbidden romances, as well, of children being born in the secret rooms in the dungeons, of young mothers wailing as their babies were taken away from them. Solona was not naive; she knew ugliness like that happened outside the Circle as well, but here, they were more vulnerable than most. But she tried not to worry, not too much- Anders had her back, and she had his.

The blond mage had been there for her when her first adolescent crush had broken her heart; she had been there for him when he had one day been dragged back from the dungeons, after one of the templars took it upon himself to discipline the unruly child he had been; she had wiped away the blood from the lashes on his back, crying all the while, as he had clenched his teeth and endured. He had been there- standing over her with his fists bloodied and screaming bloody murder- when one of the Senior Enchanters had cornered her in a hallway, and made lewd comments before throwing her to the floor; she had been there when Anders had been locked up for three weeks after his first escape, sneaking past sympathetic templars to stay outside his door and sing to him, so he wouldn't feel alone.

They had always been there for each other- they knew each other inside-out. It was Anders that had first alerted her to what the strange little pitter-patter her heart was doing when she went past _him_ was, and it was her that knew all of Anders' escape attempts beforehand and helped him prepare, after trying in vain to dissuade him.

Life would have been good, even with Anders' rebellious streak blooming into a full-blown revolt. He had already attempted to escape more than three times- without counting the attempts where he hadn't gotten further than the Tower gates. Any other apprentice would have been tranquilled long ago, but Anders was Irving's star pupil- he got away with solitary confinement and loss of privileges. In any case, even with Anders' revolutionary agenda, life would have been good for Solona- she would be Harrowed soon, and be an Enchanter. She would have been perfectly content with her life in the Tower; it would have been good - if _he_ hadn't been transferred to the Circle.

She sighed again as the image of a man she couldn't stop thinking about floated into her mind, and got shushed rather strictly once more. Anders' eyes twinkled at her. He conjured a small spark of electricity and touched it to the metal leg of the table making everyone except Solona jolt and gasp in shock- she knew well enough to pull back.

"Anders," Enchanter Samael, aka Stuffypants, hissed. "Behave!"

"Sorry," Anders whispered with a smile on his face that was anything but apologetic. "It got away from me."

"Don't do it again, or this," Enchanter Samael lifted the cane by his leg, "will get away from me as well."

Other people from the neighbouring tables protested at the noise and at that time exactly, the heavy stomping of metal encased feet echoed down the corridor leading to the Library doors.

"Change of the guard!" a voice outside shouted, and the templar by the door opened up to let the new rotation in, just as the men that had been stationed around the library started filing out. Solona blinked. These men were usually so quiet she had started thinking of them as statues, like those suits of armour nobles had decorating their halls. She watched as one of the templars that had been directly opposite her stretched and saluted the man that was quickly making his way towards him to relieve him of his post.

"Your Ser Hottie is here," Anders found the chance to lean in and whisper in her ear, making her cheeks instantly blush. Indeed, stepping into the spot of the same templar that she had been observing was none other than the subject of her deepest, darkest fantasies.

Solona's face reddened even more as Anders gave her a knowing look. The tall templar moved into position, weaving gracefully between tables and bookshelves, despite his bulky armour. He had his metal helmet under one hand and was looking around the tables with a genuine look of envy on his handsome, chiselled face. For the first time, Solona felt bad for a templar- at least she would be sitting down. She could see the longing looks he was giving the books and wondered what kind of education he had been given in the Chantry. Probably just the basics, the poor man. The Chantry didn't want thinkers as templars. She was getting educated, while he had to stand there, like a metal encased statue; for a man that looked as alert and curious as Cullen, that had to be torture.

He settled into the nook directly across from her, ran a hand through his short strawberry blond hair, and then settled his helmet in place, hiding that handsome face from view. All she could see now was his eyes thought that narrow slit in the helmet- those warm eyes, the colour of wild honey. For a moment, she thought that his eyes met hers, and she gave him a slight smile, her cheeks blushing. He shifted in his place and looked to the other direction, avoiding her gaze. Solona's mouth pouted and she turned to her book with a resigned sigh as the Enchanter at the head of the table rapped his fingers on the table and demanded silence.

"Quiet! Quiet all of you!" he chastised his students that had found the perfect opportunity to start whispering and giggling with one another. Heedless of the greyed mage, Anders leaned across the table to whisper in her ear.

"Don't stare like that, Solona baby," he drawled with a hint of laughter in his voice. "You'll give the man the hiccups."

"Anders!" Enchanter Samael raised his voice.

"Gee weez, old man," Anders drawled. "Add some fibre to your diet, will you?"

"Detention after class, Anders!"

"How original."

"Don't make me turn it into a few days of solitary confinement, Anders."

Solona kicked him under the table, trying to make him stop antagonising the old man. It was true that Enchanter Samael was overly stuffy and strict, and that he disliked Anders intensely, but he was a good teacher- and an elder. "Don't be such a cad," she whispered to him.

"Detention for you too, Solona!"

"What?" she sputtered. "But...but..."

Anders laughed- he couldn't help it.

* * *

Detention meant that Anders and Solona had to sit all alone in one of the empty storage rooms with only a templar watching on for company. They had been given a mountain of laundry to sort through, along with a basket of socks and underwear that needed mending.

"I wonder who used to do all this before we two got to the Circle," Anders said as he was folding a pair of underclothes. He looked up to the rather large pair and wrinkled his nose. "I bet you my lunch these belong to Ser Arthur," he mumbled. "No one else has an arse the size of a small house."

The templar behind them coughed into his hand.

"Come on," Anders smiled cheekily to the man. "You know it's true. Any larger and he'd have to go through the corridors sideways."

The man growled, and shot Anders a chastising look through his helmet.

"Aren't you a little chatterbox now?" Anders returned to his folding. "Aren't you going to say something?" he turned to Solona, who shot him a miffed look and returned to darning a pair of socks.

"I got detention because of you!" she hissed. "Again." She held up her needle to him. "I hate sewing, Anders. I hate it!"

"Poor little princess," Anders mocked her. "Careful you don't prick a finger, there, or ray-of-sunshine here might think you're about to go mawhaha on him and turn into an abomination."

The templar shifted nervously.

"He was just joking, Ser Vincent," Solona was quick to reassure the templar, who was a new recruit and a little jumpy. "Don't mind him. He's always like that- a complete and utter idiot."

"I stand offended, hurt, and acutely indignant."

"Like I care. Keep doing that, and a certain mage I know will not have _dessert_ tonight," she said, narrowing her eyes at him.

"Oh, really?" Anders replied with a cheeky, suggestive smile. "And I wanted some cream tonight. Darn." He waved a sock at her, showing her a big hole in the heel. " _Darn_ , woman."

She laughed, despite the fact that she was genuinely angry at him. Damn it, people were beginning to complain to her about her clumsy stitching- she was in here darning socks that often! Half of these detention times were his fault, too.

Well...if she was going to be honest with herself, half of his detention time was because of her. But she wasn't in a mood to be fair right now- she had pricked her fingers more times than she could count. Plus, she was missing out on Chantry service. Not that she was an overly pious sort of person, but it was the only time apprentices and templars sort of mingled- and she knew Cullen would be there, bent on his knees, his helmet off so she could gaze on his handsome face all she wanted.

"Why don't you get a needle and darn some yourself," she threw a sock at the blond mage. "Don't be a sexist, Anders. It's unattractive- and you're ugly enough as it is."

The templar let a little laugh escape him, then cleared his throat and straightened his back again.

"These fingers are too delicate for pointy needles and scrubbing floors, sweetheart, you know that," Anders wiggled his long, elegant fingers in front of her face.

"Don't remind me we also have to scrub the common room floor, Anders," she grumbled. "I'm not doing any scrubbing. Not on your life."

Anders leaned in to whisper in her ear. "Oh, but do you know who has guard duty in the common room, Solona?" he purred in her ear. "Wouldn't you like to get down on all fours and scrub while he's watching?"

A naughty smile lit up her face at that. She licked her lips a little at the thought; her, down on her knees, her backside in the air, her robes tucked up between her thighs, while Cullen watched. She smiled brightly, then resumed her sewing with a cheery smile, humming, while Anders laughed.

The young templar just removed his helmet and scratched his head, puzzled by her suddenly cheerful mood.


	2. Chapter 2: Enter Ser Hottie

**Enter Ser Hottie**

Cullen stifled a yawn. The Common Room was quiet- too quiet. Groups of young apprentices were huddled together in the middle of it, observing a pair that was deep into a game of chess, and on the far corner some of the younger ones were being entertained by a serious, sombre-faced girl that was reading them a fairytale. Squeals of fright could be heard from their direction and Cullen smiled in his helmet, as one curly haired little girl, clutching a rag doll tightly to her chest, raised her voice.

"Oh, no!" her childish voice carried. "Will the prince save her, Petra? Will he?"

Cullen nearly chuckled at the adorableness of the scene. When he had first arrived at the Circle, he had expected to see monsters at every corner. His training still fresh in his mind, he had expected to see mages cackling over their cauldrons and blood mages lurking in the corridors, but the reality of what he had encountered had quickly changed his perception. Children, and fresh faced young apprentices, grey-bearded men and white-haired women who cared more about their books than summoning demons -a surprisingly soothing, serene pace of life. He knew, of course, that appearances were often misleading and that his duty was to be vigilant; there were mages in the tower that gave him a funny, foreboding feeling.

He shifted his stance to relieve his aching feet, then turned to the apprentices in the middle of the room, noticing that the game had ended and that most of them had started to disperse, heading for the nest of plush pillows close to the far wall, most of them with a book at hand. He sighed and took count, out of habit.

His lips thinned when he realised the reason why everything was quiet; Anders and Solona weren't here. He vaguely remembered something about a detention during the morning study session. He allowed himself to relax even further- with the "Rascally Duo' absent, it was unlikely he would see any mischief.

A fond little smile curled his lips as he thought of one of the member of that duo- Solona Amell, the prettiest, most enchanting girl he had ever seen. Soft, unruly curls falling down her back like a waterfall of brown silk, twinkling blue eyes, a petit yet curvy frame. She was sin personified- and to his eternal shame, his personal, secret obsession.

He had encountered no demons here at Kinloch Hold. But he had encountered her, a young woman that could tempt him far more than any desire demon ever could, that awoke forbidden, sinful fantasies in his head. His fists clenched by his side. Maker. It was more and more difficult to hide the way she affected him. All the girl had to do was look at him, and he became flustered like a little boy. The few times she had spoken to him he had lost his voice, stuttering uncharacteristically, blushing until he thought that steam would start coming out of his ears.

It didn't help that she was a mischievous little imp- she kept shooting him sultry little smiles with those kissable, bowlike lips of hers, and batting her eyelashes at him. He was afraid that his infatuation with her was a common secret- Anders certainly seemed to know about it, because the blond apprentice had an amused smile on his face whenever he saw him. It made Cullen want to punch him- that, and the fact that he was so close to the object of his fantasies, while he was forced by his duty to keep his distance.

He had prayed to Andraste for strength many times, fully believing that Solona was a test that the Maker had sent to try the strength of his convictions and character. But Maker's breath, the way those full hips of hers swayed as she walked by, the sweet sound of her voice as she almost purred his name in a way that seemed to be only hers...he closed his eyes for a second, imagining what she would sound like...NO. With a shake of his head, he cleared those sinful images from his mind.

He felt himself sweat slightly under his heavy steel chestpiece; he shifted again, then started reciting verses of the Chant in his head, shaking it again to clear the image of her as he had seen her a few nights ago, dressed only in her thin sleeping sheathe, her glorious curves visible under the threadbare fabric.

The door banging on its hinges made him jolt, and he dropped into a slight battle stance , his hand flying to the handle of his sword out of habit. Anders sauntered in, holding a bucket full of soapy water and a brush, followed closely by his usual partner in crime, none other than the very same woman Cullen had just been thinking about.

"Missed us, darlings?" Anders theatrically shouted to the faces that turned towards them with wide smiles. "Behold! Your intrepid heroes return, after foiling an attack by oversized templar underclothes and ripped socks! No more will toes protrude from holes in socks!" he raised his hand to the ceiling as if he had just slain a dragon. "Anders has saved your freezing little piggies!"

Solona cuffed him upside the head as she walked into the room, carrying a bucket of her own. "Get scrubbing, intrepid hero," she sneered at him, then nodded cheerfully as a reply to the various voices greeting her.

Cullen held his breath as her gaze swept the room, only to stop on him. "Ser Cullen, good afternoon," she said, her voice dropping into that sultry, suggestive tone that she only seemed to use with him. Giggles erupted around the room, making Cullen grit his teeth to help him keep his control- the damned girl was mocking him!

"Apprentice Solona," he said formally, his voice for once steady, "Apprentice Anders. I believe you have been given a task. Get to it."

She smiled at him then, a smile that spread slowly on her face, a naughty, predatory smile that cats gave the canary on the perch before they pounced. "Certainly, Ser Cullen," she said, then bent over to gather the hem of her robe up her shapely legs and secure it in her belt. Cullen gulped as those creamy thighs came into view- he had never been so grateful for the helmet he was wearing than at this instance, because he was certain his face had taken on a very revealing shade of red.

The smile on her face widened even more as she dropped to her knees, dipped the brush in the soapy water then started scrubbing the floor, her heart shaped derriere in the air, her breasts jingling slightly under her oversized robes with every move she made. Cullen had to bite his lip not to groan out loud.

No demons in the Tower? Maker's breath, he was looking at one.

Sweat started trickling down his face underneath his helmet as he did his best not to watch- but it was hopeless. His eyes kept being drawn to her like a magnet, despite the unholy ruckus Anders was producing, moaning and groaning and complaining that his back hurt and that his delicate knuckles were getting bruised. He stopped scrubbing every five seconds, to answer one of his fellow apprentices' taunts, making the whole room erupt in laughter.

But Solona seemed to be focused on her scrubbing. If anyone else was standing there, watching her, he would think she was being a diligent, obedient little apprentice, doing her job with the outmost devotion- but Cullen knew better.

The damned girl was bent on driving him crazy, he just knew it. She had no doubt noticed the way he reacted to her- or Anders, damn his eyes, had alerted her to it- and she was playing with him, trying to drive him up a wall. His muscles started shaking with the effort it took to keep himself completely still, to not show how much the sight of those pale, creamy thighs made his blood boil. He was biting on the inside of his cheek so hard that he was going to draw blood any minute now, and he was sweating profusely, as his body attempted to cool down the fire burning in his every cell. He closed his eyes as she raised up on her knees and wiped the sweat from her forehead, moaning low in her throat, then bent again, thrusting that heart-shaped ass in the air once more.

Cullen started praying.

'Here lies the abyss, the well of all souls.  
From these emerald waters doth life begin anew.  
Come to me, child, and I shall embrace you.  
In my arms lies Eternity. '

But Andraste's words didn't help. Images of 'life beginning anew' and exactly how that was achieved flooded his mind. The words 'I shall embrace you' brought forth an image of Solona, in that sinfully transparent sheath of hers, swaying as she walked towards him to put her arms around him.

 _In my arms lies Eternity._

Hot damn. Sweat had long ago beaded on his forehead and was now running down his face underneath his helmet. He shifted a little, grateful for the templar robe that helped him conceal how uncomfortably aroused he had become as he watched her rock back and forth with the brush in both hands and her heart -shaped, full posterior swaying like it did. He dragged his eyes away, which took all the self-control that remained in him, feeling his heart thumping heavily in his ribcage.

 _Get yourself under control, Templar_ , he chastised himself, clenching his fists in impotent rage against his weakness. _This is sinful_ , a voice inside himself berated him, a voice suspiciously similar to that of old, prune-faced Sister Clarice, the Chantry Sister that was responsible for their religious education during his training. _The Maker is testing you_ , the voice went on. _Do not succumb to temptations of the flesh._

When the templar in the hallway called the command for the apprentices to go to bed, and the bored, disgruntled young mages started filing out of the room, he let out a breath of relief and allowed his tense body to relax.

Too soon, though, as Solona lingered in the room, pretending to gather her cleaning supplies and taking forever to roll down her sleeves and tidy up her robes. As soon as the last of her fellow apprentices had walked out the door, she looked up at him, a small smile playing around her lips.

"Goodnight, Ser Cullen," she all but purred, then walked up to him. "I hope we haven't been too loud tonight," she smiled sweetly, then raised her hand and brushed off some unseen piece of dust from his armour.

Even through the metal, even through layers of clothes, Cullen felt that touch down to his last cell, like a spark of lightning that tightened his spine. His breath hitched in his throat, and he tried to gulp down his next breath, which resulted in his leaving an embarrassing choked cough.

"Ser Cullen?" she moved even closer, ready to thump his back to help him regain his breath, and his cheeks blushed even more under his helmet. He could now feel his neck and face burning, and knew that if he tried to get his helmet off he would look like an overripe tomato.

Cullen stepped back, where the alluring scent of heated womanly flesh could not reach him; Andraste help him, she smelt delicious- jasmine, healthy sweat and soap. His pulse jumped even more, his heart picking up its pace. It sounded like horses were galloping in his chest right now; his heartbeat was so loud he was sure she could hear it.

He had no idea where the last remnants of self control he was able to dredge up came from; maybe it was his frustration, maybe it was the cheeky smile on her face that sparked his anger. But he was suddenly angry- at himself and how infuriatingly bashful he was being, at her and the way she revelled in affecting him, at the circumstances between them that made this an impossible, hopeless attraction.

He straightened suddenly, and moved even further back. "Apprentice Amell," he spat through tightly clenched jaws. "All apprentices must be in their beds before ten bells."

She flinched at his tight, hostile tone, her eyes suddenly impossibly wide. She tried smiling, but her lips wobbled, and then turned down into a sad frown. She blushed then licked those fully, pouty lips nervously. Her eyes dropped and a sigh escaped her. "Goodnight, Ser Cullen," she said in a tight little voice, before she turned and all but fled the room, walking as quickly as she could.

Cullen watched her go, her shoulders hunched, her pace lacking her usual happy, carefree spring. Just before she went through the door, she turned over her shoulder and gave him a look that once again made his breath hitch- there was such sadness, such longing in her blue eyes.

Cursing under his breath, Cullen prepared for evening vespers. It was his favourite time of the day, in the quiet, dimly-lit chapel, praying, thanking the Maker and Andraste for the day that had gone by. He sighed, remembering her sad eyes- he knew this night, he would find no solace in prayer.

* * *

He stayed longer in the small chapel that night, trying to pray- his mind kept wandering back to her, though. He was restless, and his turmoil showed. At least two sisters had approached him, asking him if there was something troubling him, if he needed any help. He shook his head every time, a little blush painting his face, before he realised from the huge yawns on the sisters' faces that he had overstayed his welcome.

He brushed a hand down his tunic and straightened up his clothes, dusting his knees. It felt strange to be out of uniform, but he was off duty for the next few days, and his uniform was in dire need of washing. The days had started getting warmer, as spring approached...and he tended to sweat a lot lately, especially when he saw her.

He ran a hand through his hair as once again his mind turned to her. Holy Andraste, he was going to go mad if this obsession didn't stop soon. He sighed, and decided to go down to the library and borrow a book. There was a whole section of old history books at the south end of the library, and no one was going to miss them. The taste in literature of the apprentices in the Tower ranged from cheesy romances to books on magic- the tomes in that section were dusted over from the long years of disuse . But Cullen loved history- when he had located that seldom visited part of the library, he had been delighted.

The education the Chantry had given him and his fellow templar recruits had been pitiful; just the basics in reading and writing and the Chant of Light, which they had been forced to learn by heart. And while some of his fellow recruits were more than happy with that –even disgruntled to learn even that much, to be truthful- Cullen had always loved learning. Every time he had duty in the Library, he was somewhat envious of the young mages whose education was so rounded.

He nodded to the bored, sleepy guard on duty in front of the Library door, then went inside and headed for that remote section at the end. There were four tall bookcases, stretching up to the vaulted ceiling, around one of the huge square columns that supported the whole structure.

He thought he heard a murmur as he approached and he looked around in alarm, listening intently. He decided he must have been imagining things when the sound wasn't repeated, so he approached of the bookcases and started trying to make out the titles on the spines of the thick tomes in the dim light of the specially enchanted lanterns- there were no torches in the Library. In fact, it was forbidden to carry any source of fire into the room; it was a rule that event the templars obeyed.

He heard that noise again then- a soft, hushed murmur. Incredulously, he pulled out one of the tomes and almost cried out in surprise. There was no column behind the bookcases, like everyone had always assumed. Instead, the four impossibly tall wooden bookcases formed a little square room behind them, more than seven by seven feet from the looks of it, a cosy little space any mage could hide himself in.

And... it was currently occupied.

He pulled back, his cheeks blushing furiously. Solona Amell and Anders. He snuck a peek again, and almost groaned out aloud.

Solona Amell. And Anders. Being...intimate.

Sweet blood of Andraste!

His first instinct was to raise the alarm. He had no voice though, no capacity for coherent thought. He jerked his eyes away from the small opening and leaned against the wall of books, feeling suddenly lightheaded. If someone asked him what exactly he was feeling at that moment, he wouldn't be able to say. Shock, certainly, arousal...jealousy. Anger. A little bit of worry, at this hidden spot where mages could slip off to and do Maker knew what.

A little breathless gasp drew his attention again, and all other feelings disappeared in the rush of a heavy wave of want and arousal that spread through his bloodstream like living flame. His face burned. Maker, if he wasn't going to raise the alarm, the right thing to do would be to walk away. He should not look. He should not sneak another peek. It was perverted, it was deviant. He would languish in the deepest, darkest corner of the Void just for thinking about it. He clenched his hands so tightly that his blunt, short nails threatened to break the skin of his palms. _Don't look. Turn away. It's not right. It's a sin_.

But he couldn't help it.

 _Just another look_ , he told himself as he turned towards the opening, _just one tiny peek. For academic reasons only, to see..._

 _Oh. Maker's breath. Holy fucking Bride of the fucking Maker._

He gulped down his next breath, as he watched Anders, half naked, knelt between Solona's spread thighs, his mouth glued to her feminine flesh, one hand tightening on her hip, the other clenching her lush bottom and keeping her at the right angle. Cullen watched, unable to tear his eyes away, as she writhed under the talented strokes of Anders' tongue, biting down on her hand to keep her mewls of pleasure in. Anders hummed, obviously pleased with the way she reacted, his eyes on her face while he licked and teased. He moved his face away, affording Cullen with a perfect view of her pink, glistening flesh, then used his hands on her- long, slim fingers, parting her folds, caressing her, plunging inside her. Cold sweat broke out on Cullen's forehead as he took the sight in, a sight he had never seen before, the secret of that area on a woman's body finally revealed to him. His rod jumped to attention so fast that his head was left reeling, his vision going almost dark from shock and desire in an instance.

Anders smiled cheekily in the dark, dimly lit room, before touching his fingers to Solona's centre. The little flash of electricity he let loose was abnormally bright into the small room, leaving an imprint on Cullen's retinas. Solona almost screamed and arched off the floor, her back bowing.

"Shhh," Anders chuckled in a low whisper. "You'll bring half the Tower to our spot."

She shot him a look that was both indignant and dazed, before pushing him back and climbing on top of him. The young mage supported his torso on his forearms, smiling brightly, and Cullen noticed the linen trousers he was wearing were hanging open. He almost gasped as he realised what he was going to witness and once more, his natural bashfulness won over his desire and his curiosity. He averted his eyes again, leaning his forehead against the books, trembling from head to toe like a stallion. He heard a choked little gasp, a throaty moan in a male voice. Sweat broke out on his forehead. He could hear panting breaths and hushed moans, too low to be heard unless you knew someone was behind the bookcases.

 _One peep. Just one more peep_.

Minutes later, he was stumbling back to his room, pale and sweaty, just barely coming up with an excuse that he was suddenly feeling sick to the worried templar at the door. He didn't even remember how he got to his bed; that last image he'd seen was burned behind his eyelashes, clouding his every thought.

He fell on his bed, Maker only know how, and buried his head in the pillow, his cock a swollen, rigid length between his legs. Silently, with a feeling of acute shame, he masturbated to the memory of his last image of her, riding Anders, her pale body undulating in the pale light of the small room, her head thrown back, her hair flying behind her.

It was the sound she had made as she found her peek that made him spend himself in his hand, though, the memory of one word. As her body had tensed and her back had bowed, she had thrown her head even further back, and softly cried out a name- but is wasn't the name of the man she was gyrating above, the name of the man that was emptying his seed inside her.

It was his own.

"Cullen", she had cried, her voice breathless, her body trembling.

 _Cullen_.


	3. Chapter 3: An Unusual Offer

**An Unusual Offer**

The next day passed as in a dream for Cullen. He was lost in a haze of erotic daydreams. The memory of her, as she raised and lowered herself over Anders' shaft burned in his mind, her little breathless moan of his own name. It was all he heard in his mind, that little chocked cry, the way his name had tumbled from her pouty mouth, open in a little breathless 'o' of pleasure. He found himself being aroused by the merest memory of her; his skin felt incredible sensitive, almost prickling in anticipation of the touch of an absent lover. It amused him, to some level, that even a good stiff breeze could arouse him- and frustrated him to no end at the same time.

It was a good thing he was off duty, because he didn't think he could bear seeing her, not without embarrassing himself beyond imagining. He couldn't even remember by the time the day ended how many times he'd had to sneak away to palm a raging erection, biting down on his hand not to be heard as he pleasured himself to her memory in hidden nooks and crannies of the old tower. Night rolled around, and he couldn't even remember what he'd had for dinner, or if he had any dinner at all.

Evening vespers, when he usually found peace and a sense of belonging, was torture. He saw her face in every verse of the chant; what had once been a profound, soul-warming religious experience had now become a torment. "Let the blade pass through the flesh," the chanters sang, and all he could see in his head was another kind of sword, going through her flesh, sheathing itself in her depths, those little mewling sounds of hers stifled by her hand. "Let my blood touch the ground," the chanters went on, and all he could think of was how much he would have liked to be the first one to ever take her, breaching her innocence, her blood coating his staff. "Let my cries touch their hearts," the hymn continued, and he shifted as he knelt on the hard ground, her cry of his name ringing in his ears.

"Let mine be the last sacrifice."

How he would have loved to be the last one to sacrifice at her altar, coating her insides with his seed, the ultimate gift he could give her, his own virginity.

Ashamed beyond imagining at his own lustful, sinful thoughts, he felt the need to jump up and leave the chapel, but a rather revealing part of his anatomy didn't let him dare do it. He just stayed there, long after everybody had left the chapel, his body shaking, sweat trickling down his back, until he found a chance to slip away and hide in a quiet alcove just outside the entrance.

Once more, he had to take care of himself- a few jerking tugs on his painfully swollen member were enough to bring him to his peak, shame making his ears burn.

He looked down at his hand, his seed coating his fingers, and quickly used his handkerchief to clean himself up, as he heard voices coming down the corridor.

There she was, a vision of loveliness in her pale blue robes, going past the spot where he was concealed, Anders leisurely coming along behind her.

"Damn it, Anders," she grumbled. "I missed the evening vespers. Nobody is here."

"You missed _him_ attending evening vespers, you mean," Anders chuckled, and she hushed him, slapping his arm.

"Be quiet!"

"Me? It wasn't me that was crying out his name last night, Solona baby," Anders chuckled. "By the way, remind me to get offended next time. It was a big no-no what you did, Solona, crying out a man's name while another man fucked you."

"Oh, shut up," she hissed. "It's not like I cheated or anything. And I do recall someone crying out some other name once...shall we discuss how big a faux pas it is to cry out a _man's_ name, while you're fucking a woman?"

Anders blushed. "It was just once, and I wouldn't have if you hadn't done that thing with your thumb up my..."

"...Anders! Shut up! The whole Tower will hear!"

Anders laughed heartily, before wrapping his arm around Solona's shoulders. "Come now, sweetheart," he said. " Same place tonight? I'll make you forget him."

She heaved a sigh, the sat down on the low bench outside the chapel doors, her shoulders sagging and her pouty mouth turned into a sad frown. "I... don't think that's possible, Anders."

Anders sighed too, and sat next to her. "Solona..." he started then rubbed his forehead. "in all seriousness now, sweetheart, what did you expect would come out of this infatuation of yours?"

Cullen's heart jumped in his chest, lurching painfully. So it wasn't just him that...

Solona sighed once again, the shot Anders a rueful look. "He doesn't even like me."

"Even if he did," Anders laced his fingers with hers, "nothing could come of it. He's a templar, and a very devoted one, and you're a mage. It cannot be."

She chuckled bitterly. "Don't you think I know? But I can't help it, Anders. I see him, and my heart starts galloping." She leaned her head on his shoulder. "He's all I can think of. I think...I think I love him."

"Whoa, whoa, there!" Anders cried out. "When did we start speaking of love? Solona! Lusting after the man is one thing...but love? Have you lost your marbles?"

Cullen felt faint. His ears stopped working- the only sound he could hear was his galloping heartbeat. Solona Amell...loved him? He brought a hand up to his heart and clutched at it desperately. It was obvious from the conversation that he had just heard that the relationship between Anders and her was only physical, two very good friends relieving tension together, not a love affair like he'd thought...but he would never have imagined that Solona loved him. _Him_ , Cullen. Or that...she wanted him, just like he did.

He snuck a look at them, his eyes wide, and his heart bled to see her crying silently onto Anders' shoulder, his hand petting her hair. And then...Anders raised his head, and caught sight of him. His amber eyes widened and he nearly cried out, but Cullen brought a finger up to his lips, and the blond mage bit his lip and looked at the crying girl. When he next raised his head, Cullen had slipped away.

Anders patted Solona's head, running his fingers through her hair, crooning to her. It broke his heart to see his most beloved friend suffering like this. He pulled her in his arms and tried to comfort her, whispering useless platitudes in her ear, all the while his mind galloping.

Cullen had seen them here, together. He had heard what Solona had said. What did that mean? Was the man going to take advantage of her infatuation? No, not Cullen, he thought, and his hands unclenched from the fists they had tightened into behind her back. Cullen was a good man. A templar, surely, but as far as templars went, a good man- he would find a way to gently let Solona down. It would hurt her, but Anders would be there to pick up the pieces, like he always did.

Unless...his eyes narrowed. For a moment, he'd thought Cullen looked flushed and on edge, as if what he'd heard had affected him, not only surprised him. His mind started working overtime, analyzing previous interactions with the templar; could it be possible that he wanted Solona as well? She teased and flirted, and he usually stuttered and blushed, then growled and snapped at her. His hands stilled over Solana's back. A devious smile lit up his face. There were other ways to deal with unrequited love. Namely, taking the 'un' out of 'unrequited'.

Now if he could just find a way to breach the subject with a skittish, nervous templar, without getting himself thrown in isolation for about a month...

* * *

Cullen spend the rest of the evening as if in a daze. He was shaken down to his boots, even more shaken than he had been after the night he had watched Anders and Solona...ahem...being intimate. To know that the woman that haunted your dreams was interested in you sexually was one thing, but to know that she had feelings for you... he felt his heart thunder in his chest at the thought.

Even more intoxicating was the knowledge, the realization, that should he chose to, he could have Solana any day of the week. The girl not only lusted after him, but professed to love him. If Cullen was any other kind of man, the kind that didn't hold his principles so high, he would have been jumping on the opportunity to have her- damn it, he knew, from whispers going around the Tower, that many templars had sampled the forbidden fruit, engaging in elicit affairs with young mages. The more sinister of those whispers were that sometimes, the templars' attention wasn't fully welcomed-the ugly slur of rape had been whispered through these halls a lot of times.

Cullen had refused to believe the rumours, but where there was smoke, there was fire. He had no doubt that there were a lot of apprentices and enchanters that had traded sexual favours for more privileges, too. Maker's breath, there had even been talk of pairings of dubious content among the mages themselves. It was abhorrent to him to think so, but he was enough of a realist to know that whenever there was a situation where one person had power and control over another, such ugliness sometimes ensued.

But if he wanted Solona, he could have her. There would be no question of dubious consent, no ugly slur of rape. She wanted him. Her teasing and flirting hadn't been an impish, naughty girl's attempt to toy with him- she had been trying to show her interest all this time. Cullen drew in a deep shuddering breath and released it slowly, trying to calm his frazzled nerves.

Damn it. He still couldn't wrap his head around it. Solona wanted him. Solona...loved him.

Another deep breath that did absolutely nothing for his agitation and he jumped out of bed, desperate for some fresh air. He gave a brief nod to the guard in the hallway and made it to the balcony- it was one of the few ones that still remained open in the Tower. He shivered a little, just like he did every time he got out on the small, narrow landing. When he had first been assigned to the Tower and one of the other men showed him around, he had naively asked why all the balconies and windows had been barred saved this one. The answer still made a chill run down his spine- too many mages had committed suicide, falling to their deaths.

Cullen sighed as he leaned over the railing. This small balcony was located at the end of the hallway that crossed the templars' quarters- mages had no access here. He looked out into the dark expanse of lake Calenhad, where the moon painted the dark water with a slivery, pale light. How desperate, how deep in misery did a person have to be to jump out of a balcony such as this? How desperate to be free, even in death?

Mages were cursed by the Maker, he had been taught, and he had firmly believed it to be true, until he had first been assigned here. Children, bright eyed young apprentices, old men and greying women, men and women that had never known the simple pleasure of taking off one morning, walking in a random direction just to see the flowers bloom in the fields.

He had seen firsthand that magic was dangerous. He still remembered the first time, during his training, that his squad had come across an abomination. He would never forget that monstrous form, that grotesque creature of nightmares. But the mages in this Tower...Solona, Anders, their fellow apprentices. That little girl that had been clutching her rag doll the other day, her eyes wide as she listened to a fairytale...he had an increasingly hard time reconciling those two images in his head.

And now...a mage loved him.

"Psst."

Cullen jerked away from the railing, looking around in alarm.

"Psstt!" he heard again. "Here."

He moved closer to the eastern wall, and then gasped in shock as Anders stepped out of the shadows of a small alcove.

"Anders!" Cullen's hand flew to the hilt of his sword- or rather, where the hilt of his sword would have been if he had been armed. Realising that he was unarmed, he looked around for some kind of weapon, and prepared to shout out to the guard that was standing on the other side of the balcony door, just a few feet down the corridor.

"No need for dramatics, Ser Cullen," Anders quickly raised his hands in front of him. "I just want to talk."

"How in the blazes did you get here, Anders?" Cullen spat, still eyeing the young mage in mistrust and alarm. "This place is off limit to mages!"

"Pfffttt," Anders rolled his eyes. "You wouldn't believe how many places are off limits, yet I've visited them once or twice. This place is riddled with secret passages."

"You are aware that you are talking to a templar, right?" Cullen raised an eyebrow and crossed his arms in front of his chest.

"Perfectly aware, thank you very much," Anders sneered, sarcasm heavy on his voice. "I sacrificed a perfectly good secret passage so that I could talk to exactly that: a templar."

Cullen raised an eyebrow. "Talk then."

"It's about Solona."

Cullen stumbled a bit, then his face erupted in a furious blush.

"S..so..Solona?"

"Aaaand...there's the stutter we all know and love."

Cullen glared at the mage, the hot rush of anger at his teasing pushing away his embarrassment.

"State your business before I drag you to Greagoir by your ear, Anders."

The mage fidgeted a bit, and rubbed the back of his neck, looking away. "Alright...bollocks, she'll have my hide if she ever learns I...anyway." He turned to Cullen a resigned half-smile on his face. "I'll cut to the chase. I know you saw us."

Cullen froze at the spot, momentarily thinking Anders was referring to the night he had watched them together, before he realised that the mage was talking about this evening. He coughed in his hand, a blush spreading again, and nodded affirmatively, not trusting his voice to work without stuttering again and making a further fool of himself.

Anders regarded him with a tight frown for a moment. "So, now you know. She has been hot for you since the first day she saw you."

Cullen looked away. He thought his ears would start steaming any minute now. "I thought she was just playing...you know...teasing," he said in a low, soft tone.

"Solona can be a tease, true, but, this time she means it. Andraste's knickerweasels, you're a templar! She'd never venture that far."

Cullen glared at the blasphemous way that Anders used to refer to the Maker's bride, crossing his arms on his chest again. The mage rolled his eyes at that, and then pretended to shiver.

"Ooohhh. The look of death. I'm shaking in my boots. Now, what I would really like to know is...what do you intend to do about it?"

Cullen took a step back, his face suddenly horrified. "Nothing!" he waved his hands in front of him for added emphasis. "Are you mad? She's a mage and I'm a templar! Nothing good can come out of our infatuation."

Anders' face lit up and a naughty smile graced his lips. "My ears might be playing tricks on me, but did you just say 'our'?"

Cullen realised his mistake, but all too late. "I meant _her_. _Her_ infatuation. Not mine."

"Flapdoodle, man."

"What?"

"Felgercarb. Flummadiddle. _Bullshit_ , if you prefer."

Cullen made a frustrated noise then turned his eyes away, debating whether he should just call out to the guard and have Anders thrown in a dungeon, or punch him in the face first.

"So..." Anders pursed his lips. "Shall I tell her that you want her too? She's willing, I know that much."

Cullen took a deep breath, then looked around him, totally bewildered about what was expected of him. Something inside him roared to life, something he had been suppressing all his life. Desires and appetites he had been trained to think as lustful and wicked boiled in his blood- the temptation to say yes to Anders' indecent proposal was strong. Too strong. Maker, he couldn't deny it. He wanted Solona, wanted her with an intensity that almost caused him physical pain.

But he loved Solona, too. He loved her impish smile, the rascally twinkle in her eyes. He loved that little wrinkle of concentration between her eyebrows while she was studying in the library, her warm smile, the way she laughed- a girly, infectious laugh, that made people smile fondly. He barely knew her, they had barely exchanged a few words between them, but the long hours of watching her had shown him who she was: underneath the impish naughtiness and the juvenile pranks she pulled with her partner in crime, there beat a heart of pure gold. He had seen her- how tender she was with the little ones, how supportive of her friends. He had seen her kindness and it had warmed his heart- more than how much her looks had heated his blood.

True, he wanted Solona. He sent Anders a scowling look, still fighting down the sinful demands of his own body, the little voice inside him demanding that he take the mage's offer and run away with it. If she loved him, however, as she'd said, then she had seen the man he was as well. Devoted, with the outmost conviction he was doing his Maker- given duty. If she really loved him, like she had said, then she knew who he was. And he couldn't betray that.

"No." He shook his head for emphasis. "No, don't tell her."

"You can have her, if you want to," Anders said softly. "I'll set it up."

Cullen's head whipped around to glare at the blond mage. "She's not...don't talk about her like she is a commodity to be passed between..." he swallowed heavily. "Just don't."

Anders' eyebrow rose in surprise. He gasped as realization hit him. "Well, slap me in a dress and call me Lucy!" he exclaimed. "You have feelings for her too?"

"No!" Cullen emphatically denied, his blush and panting breath belying his words. "No, I don't!"

Ander snorted. " _Malarkey, ser Cullen."_

"So, alright, you know a lot of words for bullshit," Cullen attempted to joke his way out of an impossibly awkward situation. "But, there cannot be something between Solona and me. I will not jeopardize my position and her safety for a few hours of ill-begotten pleasure."

Anders' eyes narrowed and he tilted his head to the side. "Ah...you don't know what you're missing. She's so good."

Cullen's eyes darkened with a sudden wave of anger and jealousy that made him grit his teeth and clench his fists. Images of Anders, smiling at Solona as she rode him came to his mind- jealousy was added to the mix of the swirling emotions inside him, threatening to rob him of his control. He once again felt the urge to wipe the mage's dreamy expression by punching him square in the jaw- he had to fight against it with all he had.

Anders tilted folded his arms against his chest, a small wry smile on his lips as he studied Cullen.

"You want her, Ser Cullen." The mage's lips pursed in mischief. "Just slam her against a wall and fuck her already."

"Be quiet, Anders!" Cullen hissed, his eyes shooting sparks of anger.

"Ah, yes. Quiet." Anders' cheeky, teasing smile grew wider. "It's a struggle to keep her quiet when I have her. She makes those little mewling sounds... shame you don't want to hear them yourself."

Cullen's control snapped. To have him talk of something that he himself could never have so casually, as if Solona was a piece of meat...it made him see red. He was aware, at some small corner of his mind that Anders was just edging him on, but at that moment his anger boiled over, drawing out the voice in his head that was ordering him no to fall prey to the mage's teasing. He grabbed Anders by the collar of his robes with both hands and pushed him backwards, until half his torso was hanging out of the railing and bared his teeth at him, in an expression of pure menace.

"One more word," he grit through tightly clenched teeth, "and I'll show you why they call this balcony The Mages' Flight."

Anders' eyes widened in fear, and he flailed his arms for a second trying to gain his balance, but then he grew still and he refused to let his fear show in any other way. "No need for hostilities now, Ser Cullen," he licked his dry lips. "I thought you templar boys valued the truth."

Cullen's jaw clenched and his hands tightened even more on the robes of the blond mage. "Can you fly?"

"Given sufficient thrust, perhaps, who knows?" Anders gave him a wide-eyed, almost innocent look. "I've never tried."

"Stop talking about her like that, or we'll find out."

"I was teasing," Anders gulped, shooting a terrified look over his shoulder the dark bottomless gap behind him. "Haha. So funny and all that. You know I didn't mean it."

Cullen blinked, then slowly his hands unclenched and he stepped back, allowing Anders to straighten up and move away from the railing.

"Get out of here, before I call the guard."

Anders straightened his clothes, then shot him a disdainful look, almost pouting. "You're a coward, Ser Cullen," he said softly.

"Anders. I'm warning you."

"Yeah, yeah, right. Your loss."

Just before he disappeared in the shadows form which he had emerged, he turned back over his shoulder and gave Cullen a small smirk.

"You know..." he said. "I love her too. Not...like that, but I do. She's the world to me. I would do anything to see her happy."

Cullen's anger deflated with a whoosh, but he found no words to say, regret heavy in his gut, Anders' accusation of cowardliness stinging his ego. Instead, he just nodded, and turned his back on the retreating mage, making a mental note to alert someone more highly ranking about the existence of the secret passage. He would keep Anders' involvement out of it, he decided- he would say that he had discovered the passage himself. He'd noticed where the mage had pressed to open the passage and nobody would question how he had found it. He would attribute it all to chance.

He looked at the spot where the blond mage had disappeared. Anders was a brat, most of the time he was too annoying for his own good- but the man was brave. He clearly cared for Solona too, and more importantly...Solona cared for him.

Getting Anders in trouble would cause her grief. There was potential for trouble here, he realised, if the blond mage realised that Cullen would be reluctant to punish him lest he make Solona sad; just like mages, templars couldn't love, because it could be a tool to use against them. Cullen sighed, and rubbed his forehead where a massive headache was forming. No doubt, Anders would tell her of the fact he had rejected her. More grief was the last thing he wanted to cause her, and throwing her best friend in the dungeons while she had to deal with his rejection would be too cruel.

He wasn't a cruel man, but...maybe Anders was right. Maybe he was a coward.


	4. Chapter 4: Ser Peeping Tom

**Ser Peeping Tom**

When night time rolled around, he was in torment. He ached to know if Anders and Solona would be meeting in their secret place that night, and what they would do there. One part of his mind was awash with sinful, wicked fantasies, imagining that the blond mage would try to comfort Solona using physical pleasure- the other was mortified, imagining her sad and heartbroken, sobbing on her friend's shoulder.

In the end, after hours of turning and tossing in his bed, he finally gave up; his feet carried him to the library as if of their own volition. The guard at the door jested with him that he seemed to be turning into a scholar lately and Cullen stuttered through an excuse that he was suffering from insomnia.

Walking the few feet to the back of the huge room and to their secret hiding place was one of the hardest things he had ever done. One part of him longed it with a secret, wicked pleasure that sent tremors of anticipation down his spine and the other resisted, trying to push him back with admonitions about how sinful what he was doing was. It was as if two separate, distinct hands were pushing him in opposite directions: one forward, cajoling that it wouldn't hurt to sneak another peak and the other backwards, telling him in a firm voice that was he was doing would see him damned to the furthest , blackest pit in the Void.

It was reason that fought him- his heart and body that pushed him forward. And in the end, his logic and good principles could not withstand the longing of his flesh and the ache in his heart.

So, he found himself in front of the bookcase, leaning his forehead on the old, cracking spines on the dusty tomes, trying to control his breath. He knew they were in there- already he could hear them; hushed murmurs and the occasional voice that rose a little higher than a mere whisper. He had to clench and unclench his fists a few times before he got the courage to pull one of the tomes out, then – praying for forgiveness- he peered in the dimly lit space.

His heart gave a little flutter; Solona was perched on Anders' lap, her head hidden in the crook of his neck, while he murmured soothing words in her ear and rubbed comforting circles on her back, which was shaking with muffled sobs.

He closed his eyes, pain stabbing him right in the heart, then turned around and leaned on the bookcase, throwing his head back. Damn him, he was less than a man. He had caused her pain- even if it were for her own good, he had rejected her. It was hopeless, this infatuation between them, it was forbidden...he was a templar and she was a mage. But damn it, he was also a man, first and foremost, who had caused a woman that was in love with him pain. Something deep and primal in his soul protested at that notion, some deeply buried need to protect and comfort.

"Do you want us to go back?" he heard Anders ask softly and from the next words that the mage uttered, Cullen realised she must have nodded no. "Alright, sweetheart, we can stay a little longer. Cry if you have to."

That little hidden voice in Cullen's soul growled. Another man was consoling _his_ woman. Another man was holding her, crooning gentle words in her ear, soothing the pain he himself had caused her. Possessiveness roared inside him. Damn that blighted mage! Damn him!

"No," he heard her voice. "No, Anders, I don't want to go. Make me forget. Please, make me forget."

A moan answered her, making that possessive little voice in Cullen's soul scream in outrage. He snuck a look and almost hissed out loud as he saw his petite mage straddling Anders' thighs, kissing him with wild, desperate passion. Cullen had no option other than to stand there, his fists clenched tightly by his side, watching as Anders made quick work of her clothes. Her robe slid down her arms, exposing her creamy shoulders and the elegant curve of her spine, then the mage's hands slid into her hair, grasping those glorious brown curls that Cullen fantasised about.

Their kiss went on forever, it seemed to the templar that was watching them with bated breath, before her head fell backwards, allowing Anders' blond head to slide lower. Cullen didn't have a clear view, but from the sounds she was making he could clearly tell when the man's lips closed around one of the rosy tips of her breasts; imagination provided him with the rest of the scene as he closed his eyes tightly, trying to avoid seeing her writhing in Anders' arms. He could see her in his mind's eye, her rose-coloured skin flushed, her hair cascading behind her, her mouth half open in pleasure. He could see in his head- maybe even clearer than in real life, where the gloom of the dimly lit room hid many details- her body gyrating as she rode Anders, his member making those wet sounds as it slid inside her.

Shaking like a wet dog, he leaned heavily against the bookcase, biting down on his knuckles to stop the groan building in his chest from tumbling out. Maker. He had denied a chance to be the one pleasuring that alluring creature- why was he torturing himself like this, watching them, aching, his loins heavy and his cock straining in his britches? Why didn't he just leave?

Behind his back, behind the wall of books, bodies slapped wetly together, little breathless moans and hushed groans punctuated every move he could clearly imagine them making. He clenched his eyes shut, shaking, almost trembling, punishing himself with the sounds of them having each other. But then he heard her give out a little surprised cry and curiosity got the better of him and he chanced another look.

He just stood there, breath panting, his eyes as wide as dinner plates. He didn't know it could be done that way- at first, it seemed demeaning, as if she was some bitch to be taken like that, on all fours, her lovely ass thrust up in the air. He felt a little wave of anger rise inside him on her behalf, thinking that the position was somehow insulting to her, but then he realised she was enjoying it. _Maker's breath_. She was more than enjoying it.

Enthralled, he looked on, his eyes glued to the sight, unable to turn away. He had a perfect view of her face, her pouty mouth open in a shocked gasp of bliss, her eyes shut, that little frown of concentration creasing her forehead. She bit her lip to keep in a moan as Anders increased his pace behind her, but Cullen paid no attention to the blond mage; it was as if he wasn't even there. All he could see was her face, her emotions so clearly reflected on it, her pleasure and physical enjoyment battling the sadness.

Tears were running down her face, even as she came around Anders' cock, even as her lovely features contorted into a grimace of shocked bliss. Cullen focused on the shiny, glistening tracks of her tears as they ran down her face, punishing himself, trying to use his regret to cool down the demands of his own body. She arched her back and came again as one of Anders' hand snuck down to her front and petted her between her legs; one little spark of electricity and she was convulsing again, her head whipping around. In a flash, Cullen's regret, the sadness he had felt as he'd watched her cry, was forgotten. Hot, blinding desire incarcerated every other thought, drowned out reason and logic. His hand sneaked into his smalls, as if of its own volition; he couldn't help it. Watching her in the throes of passion was too much for his fraying self-control; a gasp escaped him as he palmed his own erection, pleasuring his flesh to the pounding rhythm of Anders thrusting inside her.

He closed his eyes, imagining that it was him back there on his knees behind her, imagining it was his body connected to hers, imagining it was his flesh pleasuring her. Another soft groan escaped him, despite his will; lost as he was in his dream, though, he barely noticed it.

Anders' pace faltered a bit, then he stopped altogether, and listened intently. When the blond mage started again, he had a smile on his face; a dangerous, naughty smile. He smoothed a hand down Solona's back, then concentrated on her, using a mild rejuvenation spell on himself to stave off his imminent release.

Somebody was watching; if he were a betting man, he'd gamble it was Cullen. Perhaps the templar had followed them, and seen then sneak in here. It had to be Cullen. Anyone else would have risen the alarm by now. Anders' mind worked overtime as he considered what to do, the possibility of being wrong chilling him for an instance and making him lose his rhythm. Solona moaned low in her throat in protest, and Anders thought he heard another chocked gasp.

 _It had to be Cullen._

Well, if it wasn't Cullen, they were screwed anyway. And if it was... well. He'd give the man a show.

* * *

Solona protested faintly when Anders pulled back, shooting him a bewildered look over her shoulder. He just smiled cheekily at her, then run his hands down her back, sparks flying from his fingertips; it made her whole body tingle and she caught her breath on a choked little mewl of excitement.

One hand snuck underneath her to palm her breast while the other one slipped down to caress her drenched folds. She thrust her hips back at him, looking for more contact, but he just tsk-ed at her and pulled back. Solona shot him another frustrated little look and he chuckled quietly.

"Patience, sweetheart," he grinned his naughtiest smile. "Can't rush an artist."

She growled at him. "Artist my ass, you tease."

"We'll get to that, sweetheart, don't worry."

True to his word, one finger caressed up her slit to finger her forbidden opening, making her eyes bulge.

"Anders," she hissed. "I think you need geography lessons. That is a dead end, honey."

"Au contraire," he smiled. "That is going off the beaten track. You did it to me, remember?"

She sat back on her haunches, alarmed. "Really? You think I'll be able to keep quiet if you stick..."

" _I_ did," he interrupted. "Come on, Solona, be a good sport now."

"Bollocks. You nearly brought the Tower down," she protested, but nevertheless she went down on her knees again and thrust her ass up to him. "Be my guest then. But we had beans for supper."

Her next breath and all playfulness left her in a rush as she felt something hot and moist touch her there, and her eyes shot as wide as dinner plates in pleasure and shock. A little laugh then escaped her.

"You're kissing my ass. You'll never live that down."

Anders snortled, but kept going, and soon she had a hard time controlling the trembling of her limbs and the gasps and moans that wanted to escape her. That tongue, so talented, caressing a place she had no idea was so erogenous. His fingers, strumming her clit like a lute. Little sparks of electricity making her eyesight go white with bliss. Maker. He was going to make her scream.

He chuckled as he pulled back, momentarily, just to tease her. She writhed on the floor, pushing her round behind against his face again. "More," she breathlessly begged, making him smile like a predator.

"Who's kissing whose ass, now?" he asked, before wetting a finger in his mouth and slipping it inside the tight ring of her ass.

She arched her back and moaned low in her throat, her whole body trembling, but didn't fight him. Anders felt his own hands start shaking; the way she was clenching and unclenching around his finger, as if trying to draw him in. He bit back a growl, suddenly possessive, desire roaring inside him. Maker, he had started this as a way to make the man watching them realise what he was missing, but now he needed to do it, he needed to take her like this. Another finger slipped in; she fell down to her elbows, giving him more room to work, more access- and total submission.

Anders used his other hand to stroke his own length up and down absentmindedly, his eyes focused on that tight point of entry where his fingers were penetrating her. He thrust his fingers inside her snug passage, carefully at first, more forcefully with each passing moment, as her choked gasps and sighs told him she was enjoying it. A quick grease spell later and he was ready to add another finger- and so was she, if the way her hips were gyrating was any indication.

"Three fingers," he whispered, all tone of playful teasing gone in the lust that took over his body. "One more. Then you'll be ready for me."

She sighed her agreement, and Anders couldn't resist. He knew the man watching them -hopefully Cullen- could see everything they were doing, but he wanted to up the game even more, remembering how the templar had rejected this enthralling creature in front of him. He wanted Cullen to see them, but he also wanted to hear them; he wanted to hear Solona's breathless, barely held back cries as he fucked her and _ache_ , damn him, and be punished for the pain he had caused her.

Anders didn't stop to question the little voice in his head that added 'you also want him to see she's yours.' He shoves it right away, because those thoughts were dangerous. He didn't love Solona. He didn't want her to be his. Love wasn't allowed. This, this here, they could have: lust, desire, possession- but not love.

Feeling strangely angry and frustrated, he slid his hand into Solona's glorious curls and he yanked her head back, angling it up so he could talk directly in her ear.

"Tell me you want this," he bit out, as he added that last finger.

Solona's whole body jerked as she came- just from the anticipation and the hot erotism of the forbidden, sinful liberties she was allowing him. "Yes," she breathed. "Yes. I want it," then she closed her eyes on a sigh as the aftershocks of her orgasm raced through her body.

"Tell me what you want, Solona," Anders' usually mischievous, cheerful voice was low and dark with lust. " _Exactly_ what you want."

"I want you to fuck me up the ass," she immediately obeyed. "Please, Cul...Anders."

The blond mage chose to ignore her momentary slip of tongue- he was actually delighted about it. He heard something slam against the bookcase and what sounded suspiciously like a moan- throaty, tortured.

"It's Anders, Solona..." he playfully chastised her. "Could it be you're thinking of him again, sweetheart?" his hand caressed down her spine again, leaving a trail of small sparks behind. His other hand, three fingers stretching her opening, started thrusting slowly. "Is it Cullen you want here, preparing to slam his cock up your ass?"

"No."

"And my name is Ser Lies-a-lot. The truth, Solona," Anders rebuked her, drawing his fingers back. She whined in protest, and he chuckled darkly. He teased her with a deep, brutal thrust of his fingers, then lined up his cock with her reddened and stretched opening. She went still as a statue at the sensation, her muscles tensed to the point of shaking.

He gave her just a fraction of an inch, just barely penetrating her, enough for the untied ring of muscles to protest, for a small flash of pain to make her grit her teeth. "Tell me who it is you fantasise doing this to you, Solona."

She gasped, then her eyes closed on a muffled moan. "Please, Anders," she begged, her voice a little breathless murmur. "Please... don't torture me like this."

Anders felt his lust abate a little, feeling guilty for just a moment, before he heard what sounded suspiciously like a growl from the other side of the bookcase. _In for a copper, in for a sovereign_ , he thought. Suppressing his protectiveness with a ruthless hand, he pushed back in, penetrating a little deeper this time.

"Tell me," he urged her, his voice again going hoarse at the sight of her tight flesh stretching to take in his cock. "It's him you're thinking of, right? You wish it were your templar here behind you, fucking this hot little ass of yours."

"Oh, Maker, yes!" she choked out, losing all desire to deny it as Anders slipped slowly, agonisingly inside her, until his hips rested against her rounded behind and his rigid length was like a fiery hot brand, stretching her, marking her from the inside. "Yes!" she hissed, battling the pain to discover the pleasure lurking underneath. "Damn you, yes!"

"You want Cullen's cock stretching your ass? Say it. Is it Cullen you're dreaming or ramming his cock inside you, fucking you? "

"Yes. I want Cullen fucking me. Anders. Please. Just...make me forget him."

"My pleasure," he moaned.

Furious, pounding thrusts answered her plea, as Anders shafted her in a blinding rhythm, making her whole body jerk forward with ever forceful plunge inside her. Her tight, snug channel hugged his length like a glove as he slid in and out of her, making his whole body clench and tighten in incinerating pleasure. And still, even though the pleasure of her soft, pliant body was enough to make his see stars, he stayed focused, listening intently. The man outside was breathing heavily, panting as if he'd been running. Anders could hear some little choked moans that didn't belong to himself or to the woman writhing under his thrusts; he almost felt sorry for the templar. _Almost_.

But then she did that clenching thing that effectively shut down every thought process in his head; suddenly, there was nothing but him and Solona, nothing but the hot, snug channel he was sinking in. In another place, another lifetime, in other circumstances, this woman would have been his and his alone, and his body demanded he demonstrate that right now. In another place, in an another lifetime, he would have allowed himself to fall in love with the woman he already loved, who loved someone else. A sudden pang of regret intensified the possessiveness he felt, and made some dominant, kinky side he didn't even know he had suddenly awaken. It made him want to hear her scream _his_ name, not the templar's. The strength of his thrusts increased, the brutal pace pushing her forward as he slammed inside her to the root, making her grunt.

She clenched around his length once again, squeezing his cock like a vice as she came again. Her thighs were trembling and she was drawing in deep, convulsive breaths. Anders pulled her back, until she was leaning on him, her thighs open over his as he slammed deep inside her, supporting her heaving body. One hand snuck down to strum her hard, over-sensitised clit and she mewled, biting down on her lips to keep in the pleasured moans that were trying to escape her. Somewhere at the back of his pleasure fogged mind, Anders was aware that this position allowed the man watching them an unrestricted view of her most tender flesh shuddering and quivering as she came again, drenching his fingers. Solona's hand climbed up to clutch his hair, pulling his head to her shoulder. He muffled his own roar of completion by pressing his mouth to the juncture of her neck and shoulder as his orgasm slammed into his gut and with one brutal plunge that rocked them both upwards he spurted inside her.

Solona's head lolled back, her whole body shaking as she accepted his seed, and then her lips started wobbling before a sob wracked her frame.

" _Cullen_..." she murmured. " _Anders_."

"I know, sweetheart," The blond mage behind her wrapped his arms around her, carefully disengaging their bodies. He held her tightly as her body shook, both from pleasure and heartache; the intense orgasm seemed to have ripped her emotional walls down, and now nothing could hold the flood. He petted her hair as she cried, stifled, heart-rendering sobs racking her. "I understand."

 _More than you know_ , he thought, but didn't say it.


	5. Chapter 5:The Bigger they are

**The bigger they are...**

By next morning, Cullen knew, with a sudden epiphany that slammed into his head, that he would cave in. There was no way to fight it anymore. There had never been a more torturous night in his life so far, and there probably never would. He spent the rest of the night turning and tossing, reduced to a mess of sweaty, blubbering goo, the images he had seen burning behind his eyelids.

He couldn't fight it anymore. He just couldn't. He'd go mad. He was already half there.

Morning found him with red-rimmed eyes, burning with a feverish light, but determined. Guilt was like acid in his stomach, making it churn, but he was a practical man above all, and he could see the truth clearly: he couldn't take this anymore. He would be betraying his vows and his principles, but this wasn't a moral issue anymore, it wasn't a matter of faith and conviction.

It was a matter of survival.

He felt sore; he had taken the matter into his hands more times than he could remember, almost rubbing himself raw. Release had escaped him, no matter how aroused he was, how much his whole body burned with this sinful, forbidden lust that was making him tremble like a horse that had been ridden hard and put away wet.

It wasn't difficult to get released from his duties for the day; anyone looking at him, at his clammy, sweaty face, his trembling body, could easily believe he was sick. He spent the rest of the day in the chapel, praying for forgiveness, because Maker help him, he couldn't resist anymore.

He was going to sin, and do it spectacularly while he was at it.

* * *

Anders smiled down at the grey and black mouser, watching it as it enjoyed the little morsels that the apprentice had managed to sneak in from the dining room.

It looked up and meowed, loudly, then licked its face hungrily.

"I'm sorry, Mr. Wiggums, that's all I have," Anders held his hands up.

The cat looked at him then, hoping for more treats, it rubbed against Anders' leg, purring loudly.

"Who's a good kitty, now," Anders crooned. "You are, yes, you ar..."

He yelped as a hand dragged him into an alcove along the corridor and prepared to scream bloody murder before a voice he recognised spoke next to his ear.

"Anders. Hush. I need to speak to you."

It took Anders just a second to find his composure. "Sheez, Ser Cullen, don't surprise a mage like that," he hissed. "That's a bolt to the danglers waiting to happen. Or a firebolt up the ass."

A quiver rocked the taller man's frame at the mention of the word.

"Anders. Shut up."

"Oooh, someone's a little edgy today. I wonder why."

Cullen drew in a deep breath. "I've changed my mind."

Anders gave him his best innocent look. "About what?"

"You know what!"

An eyebrow rose up in question. "I know?" Anders scratched his head. "What?"

A curse escaped Cullen. "Anders! I know that you know what I mean!"

"But how do you know that I know what you mean? You know?"

Cullen stepped back, his hands clenching into fists and twitching with the desire to wipe that cheeky smile off the mage's face with a few well-placed blows. "Anders," he growled, "have a care."

"I'll have two, but that doesn't help you," Anders smiled. "You'll have to say it."

"I want to...Damn it Anders! Tell her.. tell her I want her. Tell her I lo..."

"Yeesss?"

"Never mind," Cullen blushed and looked away. "You set it up. I'll tell her myself."

The mage heaved a theatrical sigh. "I feel like _such_ a pimp."

"You are."

Cullen turned away, ready to leave the mage, before his voice stopped him. "Same place? The lever is by the tome 'Secrets of the Anderfels'."

Cullen's breath lodged somewhere in his throat. He turned around as in slow motion, white as a ghost, as he realised that Anders knew he had been watching them. He came face to face with a cheekily smiling mage, who was pretending to examine his nails. "I thought it was fitting, don't you?"

"Wh..What...?" Cullen managed to lisp.

"The name of the tome." Anders winked. "I could use 'The Education of a Templar', if you want."

Cullen fled as if all the demons of the Fade were after him, his face a flaming red.

A throaty male laughter followed him.

* * *

Solona thought her steps were abnormally loud on the secret passage leading to the library- or maybe it was her heart, beating like a drum inside her chest. She wiped her sweating palms on her tunic, standing for a moment before the bookcase to catch her breath and calm her nerves.

 _Maker help me_ , she thought _, if this is one of Anders' tricks, I'll kill him_. _Slowly. And painfully._

She hadn't believed Anders at first, certain he had found some twisted, wicked way to torment her, until he'd sworn to her with his hand on the pillow his mother had given him that he was telling her the truth, that Cullen had all but admitted that he wanted her, and that he'd agreed to meet her, the two of them alone. The fact that Anders told her the meeting was going to be in their secret place, that they had never entrusted to a single soul, though, had convinced her. She'd spent the rest of the afternoon in a state alternating between elation, nervousness and anticipation.

She laid her head against the books, trying to calm her nerves. She thought she could hear some movement from inside, someone –or something- pacing up and down. It wouldn't be beyond Anders to have put a bear in there, she irrationally thought, before shaking her head to clear it. No. It had to be Cullen.

She bit her lip, her hand half-outstretched towards the level hidden between the books. Cullen might be in there, but what did he want of her? To talk? To do more? To gently let her down?

She found it hard to believe that Cullen wanted her just as she wanted him. It was even harder to believe that even if he _did_ want her, he would actually act on it. She knew –despite the way he usually stuttered when he spoke to her- that it wasn't a matter of finding the courage to do that. Cullen was a brave man- she knew it with conviction. It was a matter of principles and ideals and not being willing to break his vows or go against all he believed in. She'd always thought that even if he wanted her, he would never betray his duty.

But he was back there, behind the wall of books, pacing up and down. She drew in another deep breath, then closed her eyes and pulled the level.

The bookcase slid open; before she had time to rethink it, she slipped in, pulling the door closed behind her.

And there he was, pale and shaken, breathing hard, his pulse thumbing in the hollow of his neck, clearly visible under his half laced tunic.

"You're here," she gasped, her eyes huge. "You're _really_ here."

"Solona."

With two strides, he had crossed the space between them, then he was kissing her, shocking her even further. She gasped, going rigid in his arms, before the amazing texture of his lips and his musky, masculine scent hit her- and hit her hard. Her mind started fogging as he took advantage of her little gasp and his tongue invaded her mouth, flooding her with his taste- virile, totally male, sweetly intoxicating.

With a sigh of contentment, she went limp in his brawny arms, surrendering totally, all nervousness forgotten. A moan escaped him, and before she knew it, he had pushed her up against the bookcase, and his mouth was ravaging hers with a talent she hadn't thought he possessed.

He pushed her up a little higher. Lost as she was in the pleasure his lips and large hands on her were fogging her senses with, at first she didn't realise what the bangs she was hearing were. But suddenly, her eyes flew open, and she pushed hard against his chest.

Cullen gave her an adorably confused look, his eyes dilated with desire.

"The books," she whispered. "The books are falling off."

Cullen blushed, then pulled back, running a hand through his short, curly hair. "Andraste's ass," he muttered, then looked up, whispering an apology. It made a little bubble of laughter climb to Solana's lips, battling the lust that had turned her legs to overcooked noodles.

"Wait here," she whispered, before opening the door again to slip outside. She quickly righted the books that had fallen down, then just as quickly she slipped back in.

Cullen was sitting down, his knees drawn up, his head between his hands.

"What's wrong?" she felt a small twinge of apprehension at his dejected posture. "Ser Cullen?"

He raised his head and gave her a small, bashful smile, a slight pink tingeing his cheekbones. "I think after that kiss," he said, "we might as well drop the Ser."

She sat next to him, before turning to him with a small, hesitant smile of her own. "It _was_ a nice kiss. One for the books."

More colour spread on Cullen's face, and he coughed to clear his throat. "I wouldn't know," he said. "I...it...It's not like I kiss girls like this every day. I'm sorry if I..."

"A loss for girls everywhere," she smiled cheekily. "You're a great kisser."

His eyes fell to her lips, and then hooded with desire. "Beginner's luck," he said, his voice suddenly hoarse.

Her smile grew wider and his head started leaning in without him even noticing it, before he cleared his throat again and drew back, shaking his head to clear it.

"We...We need to talk."

She bit her lip, her nervousness returning. Cullen shot a timid look at her, then groaned. "Andraste's blood, don't do that," he gestured to her mouth. "I'll lose it again."

She immediately let the lip she had been worrying between her teeth free. "Cullen?"

"So..." he drew in a deep breath, looking straight ahead. "I bet you must be wondering what I'm doing here. I...I have an admission to make."

She tried to speak, worried that her worst fear would come true and he was here only to let her down gently, to explain to her why there could never be anything between them, but he raised his hand to silence her.

"I...Maker, this is difficult." He seemed to be drawing up his courage. "I accidentally...saw you. With...Anders." At her puzzled look –after all people saw her with Anders all the time, they were inseparable- he clarified even more, his cheeks blazing bright red. "In here. You were...Maker's balls. Ahem...I _saw_ you."

She jumped up, bringing her hands to her burning cheeks. "You...YOU SAW US? Here? Oh, Maker!"

He jumped up too, and grabbed her hands away from her face. "Solona, don't be ashamed."

"Don't be ashamed? DON'T BE ASHAMED?" she was beginning to get angry now. "How much did you see?"Her eyes flew wide open, while a colour so violently red painted her cheeks that she looked as if her face would explode. "How many times? You also saw...last night?"

Cullen cringed. "Yes," he breathed out, dying of shame inside.

A long silence followed, before Solona jerked her hands away. "Is that why you're here?" she asked, her voice eerily quiet but seething with rage. "You thought that hey, she's a slut already, so why not, right?"

"No!" Cullen cried out softly. "No, Solona, no! Damn it woman, I'm in love with you! I would never think that of you!"

She went absolutely still and white as a sheet. "You are?"

"It took seeing you in another man's arms to finally realise it, yes," he sighed, a huge weight lifting off his soul. She just stood there, looking at him with wide, shocked eyes, not moving.

"Say something," he urged her, his heart stilling in anticipation.

"Something," she inanely muttered.

A slow smile spread on Cullen's face before he started laughing, all the stress and anxiety and the internal turmoil of the past days leaving him in helpless, almost hysterical chuckling. It was her lips on his that only made him stop snickering, and her amused hushing sound, as small giggles escaped her too. "Hush, you silly thing," she nipped a kiss on his sensuous mouth. "The whole Tower will hear us!"

With a groan, he deepened the kiss, making her stand on tiptoes to reach him, his arms circling her petite frame and pulling her upwards. Her hands slid into his hair, caressing his scalp, as she gave in to his kiss, making those adorable mewling sounds that hardened him so fast that his head started swimming.

"I'm in love with you too," she moaned amidst the kiss, and he smiled before capturing her lips again, twining his tongue with hers, exploring her hot, moist mouth and savouring her taste.

"I know," he smiled against her skin, as his lips started gliding down her neck, kissing and nipping. "I heard you."

"A voyeur and an eavesdropper. Naughty Ser Cullen. I'm shocked."

Cullen drew slightly back to look at her, fearing that she was still angry, but she had a soft smile on her lips, and her eyes were twinkling."It's a templar's job to be vigilant," he deadpanned, making her roll her eyes and return for another kiss.

"And, by the way," she added, "that kiss wasn't beginner's luck. You're _good_."

A wave of nervousness returned to choke Cullen. "Eh...I did mention I haven't done this before, right?" He cleared his throat again, suddenly feeling awkward and without grace- all hands. His mind supplied the images of her being taken by Anders and he blushed. He'd mortified if he didn't manage to...he'd never live it down. "I have... I have no idea what I'm doing."

Her eyes hooded as she sent him one of her sultry, seductive smiles. "Not for long, Cullen," she purred. "Not for long."


End file.
